Ilona Andrews: White Hot

The tags were probably lost now, disintegrated by the teleport spell. Rogan would have to find something else to remind him that he was alive.

“We spent nine weeks in the jungle, fighting and starving, as the Cazadores bled us like wolves bleed an injured deer. Twenty-four people went in. Sixteen came out.”

Bug had said that Luanne was one of sixteen. Now it made sense. The sixteen who had walked out with Rogan.

“It’s my professional opinion that Connor Rogan died in that jungle,” Daniela said. “The war took Connor, crushed him down to powder, and reformed him into Mad Rogan. He had to become that to survive. I told you that my nephew Martin will adjust to civilian life with some help. Mad Rogan will never adjust. His world is black and white. There are enemies and allies.”

“And civilians,” I added.

Had Rogan put her up to this speech? No. Rogan wouldn’t have made her do it. Rogan took care of his own dirty work. Dr. Daniela must’ve taken it upon herself to spell things out for me.

“He does recognize noncombatants, although his definition of civilian is shaky. He won’t kill children. He tries not to take a life unless the person presents a direct threat, but if he chooses to kill, he does it. There are only two Primes in House Rogan: him and his mother, and she has no interest in involving herself. He has us, and we’ll do anything for him. We all tried to go our separate ways, yet we all ended up right back here. We’re good at what we do, but none of us are Primes. Rogan has to rely on himself and he likes the way he is. He thinks it keeps him sharp and alive, and he’s probably right. He doesn’t feel he needs to change and he doesn’t want any help.”

“You’re not telling me anything new,” I said. “I already know what he’s like. I’ve seen it.”

“Then you know there will be no normal with him. There will never be sweetness and light.”

You might be surprised. “I know.”

“Love makes you helpless,” Daniela said. “You think about the object of your affection all the time. Your happiness or misery depends on another person’s mood. You give up all power over yourself, hand it to the person you love, and trust that they will be gentle with it. Do you know what Major hates most of all?”

“Feeling helpless?”

“He’ll go to great lengths to avoid it. I don’t even know if he is capable of maintaining a relationship in the traditional sense. He’ll never change, Nevada. The best you can hope for is that he alters some of his behavior out of respect and consideration for you, but he won’t think that what he does is wrong. He’s ruthless and when he devotes himself to something or someone, that devotion is a frightening thing that doesn’t always survive collision with reality. Take my advice. Walk away.”

“No.”

“He isn’t here. He left you here and went home because he knows that you need time to think. He left the door open for you, so you can make a clean break. No guilt, no pressure. You can still meet someone normal and have a happy life.”

“Are you done?” I asked.

“Will talking more do any good?”

“No. I heard what you had to say. Thank you for worrying about my well-being.” I pulled my blanket back and swung my legs sideways.

“What will happen when you tell him someone aggravated you and he throws that person off the roof?”

“He won’t. He’ll trust me to handle it, because the only way I’ll ever respect his wishes is if he respects mine.”

“Walk away,” Daniela said again.

“Did Rogan ask you to give me this speech?”

“He didn’t have to. I take care of him. We all take care of him. I don’t want to see him hurt. I don’t want you to be hurt.”

I faced her and I let whatever it was that made me Prime show in my eyes.

“I’ve sat here and listened to you talk for an hour. I heard you, I understand, and I’m done. I’m going to get up, get my clothes, and get dressed. Then you will arrange for a car to take me to where Rogan is. If you try to stop me or impede me in any way, I’ll shock the shit out of you. Do we understand each other, Dr. Arias?”

I took a deep breath and rang the bell on the front door of Rogan’s house. After I’d gotten out of bed, Rogan’s people had panicked. Well, panicked might have been too strong of a word. They sprang into action with agitated efficiency. A pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt were brought to me, and by the time I walked out of the building, a car and a driver were waiting for me, with Melosa in the passenger seat, followed by another vehicle filled with armed personnel. They delivered me to Rogan’s front door and beat a strategic retreat.

I did get a chance to ask Melosa about Leon. Apparently he had a feeling that something bad was going to happen to me and Rogan, so he stole a Glock out of our gun cage and caught a ride Downtown. His plan was that Melosa would shield him, while he heroically shot all of our enemies to pieces. Melosa admitted that he was so crushed when he realized that aegis shield worked both ways, that she almost felt sorry for him.

I waited, feeling stupid. Rogan was somewhere inside the house. Here I was, wearing some sweatpants and a wrinkled white T-shirt. My hair was probably greasy. The right side of my face was one big ugly bruise. I . . .

The door swung open and I saw Rogan standing in his living room.

It finally hit me. We’d both survived. We were both alive and he was standing there, and he was the most handsome man I had ever seen. I looked into his eyes and the iced over darkness stared back at me.

No. He was mine. There was a dragon under that ice and I would bring him out.

I walked across the threshold. The door stayed open behind me. He was giving me an escape route.

“You found me,” he said.

“You didn’t hide very well. And I’m a PI.”

“Nevada, nothing’s changed.”

His expression was detached, his voice almost casual. He’d locked his emotions behind a steel wall of his will. Too late, Rogan. I remember the way you looked at me in that cistern.

“Sooner or later, you will become a House,” he said.

“So you told me.”

“Genetics and children will become important.”

“Children are always important.”

“I can’t share, Nevada. I won’t.”

“Share what?”

“Share you,” he said, his voice harsh. Something wild was trying to claw its way out of him. The cold mask was breaking. “I can’t be with you knowing that you will go back to another man, whether you love him or not. It’s beyond me. It wouldn’t end well.”

“That’s good, because I don’t want to share you either.”

“I’ve given all the warnings I can give,” he said. “All in or all out, Nevada. Decide.”

“You’re a fool, Connor.” I slipped out of my shoes and took a step toward him.

The door behind me slammed shut.

Fire flared in his eyes and burned through the darkness. It was more than lust. More than need. Nobody else ever looked at me like that.

Anticipation gripped me.

He strode toward me, confident, unhurried, a dragon in his domain.

“Am I trapped?”

“You walked into my lair.” He circled me, stalking.

The first drop of his magic fell on the back of my neck, hot and soft like velvet. Breath caught in my throat.

“I gave you a chance to escape.”

The magic slid over my spine, setting every nerve aflame.

“You didn’t take it.” He was behind me.

A quick feather-light touch brushed over my shoulders and dashed down my hips. I turned. He was standing a couple of feet away.

“Now you’re mine.”

I moved, and my t-shirt and sweat pants fell off me.

I gasped.